Ah, the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse sorely needs some attention. Look at what has happened to California LemonHead:

One spike missing on her head; her Lucky the Bear Pendant fallen off; her bloomers fallen down and the only resting place she can find is Sydney’s rear quarters. PLUS, just this weekend, I had to sew her wings back on.

She just said, “Speaking of rear quarters, AJ, you’d better get yours in gear.” She didn’t say it too nicely. (Oh, that’s Rose’s dress down there under her bloomerless legs. I guess we might have a bit of a state of emergency here.)

I remember just yesterday it was the first day in June and I was thinking of my sophomore English teacher and the memorization of “What is so rare as a day in June . . .” She was probably younger than I am now and we thought she was old. Probably very nice- looking in her day, but we didn’t think of that then. I do remember she told a story about cracking a rib when her hand slipped on the side of the bathtub while giving her cocker spaniel a bath. Maybe, that was a big lesson: Stories are the little things of life, described in a way that draw you in as if you were there.

And we are past the longest day of the year, which is actually not my favorite day; my favorites are those three weeks leading up to the longest day. I love having the light around late . . . but not because of Daylight Savings Time late in Indiana. Can’t forget that. Although “that boy” Mitch Daniels decided to annoy the H out of my mother by making us observe it. The Bully.

Mother said she couldn’t die because she had to vote against “that boy” because of this; I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t think he could run again. We sent emails, but “that boy” just sent back a generic email that our email was received via a wet behind the ears  staffling – a form letter email. Auuugggghhhh.

She was about 80 when this fast time thing got stirred up again. 80. Her whole life in Indiana. Her parents’ lives on the Indiana-Michigan border. Why, her mother graduated from Lima High School (Howe) in 1900. The Depression, WW II . . . and Governor Daniels couldn’t respond to her. Oh, fie on him. FIE. FIE. FIE.

Of course, I’ve touched this subject before. It’s sort of like a boomerang.

I have a dumpster in my driveway that needs filling so I’d better get busy . . . I guess the “My Man Mitch” sign can go. (Oh, was that the echo of the boomerang?)

Over 50 years ago my grandmother casually stuck a willow branch in the ground and it grew. A lot. I pulled into the yard Friday and it was down, the victim of the tornado or tornado-like winds that came threw the area.

SIGH

Cameron, Summer and Alison with remaining trunk in background.

After the shutter snapped, Shane wandered up with the question, “Wubba, anyone?”

A section of the collapsed tree.

Striving for prime sawing position.

Cameron reminding me of TR on one of his adventures.

Portrait of a tired person who can pull a smile out of his pocket on a moment’s notice.

Back in the electronic media age – Serious internet outage; tornado; tree across road; tornado; giant willow down on deck at Mother’s; internet outage continuation. Finally, resolution . . . but guess what? Der Bingle had rented a chain saw because he finds the idea of the giant willow too tempting to not varooooom .  I am thinking he will open the back porch north door and chopping his way out until he reaches the far away edge of the collapsed giant. Probably see him in October.

It seems that just about every darn camera is omitting viewfinders from their point and shoots – even the travel zooms, which by definition just might be used in bright sunlight. The argument is that the LCD is so good you don’t need it. I happened upon this place and I am going to show it to you without you having to click.

And here are the words that are underneath the picture of this device that has Panasonic written right on it:

Oftentimes when you’re shooting outdoors in bright, sunny conditions, glare can make it impossible to see your camera’s LCD screen. Panasonic’s DMW-LVF1 electronic viewfinder is the perfect solution to this problem. Just attach it to your compatible Panasonic camera’s hot shoe for a bright, clear view of your subjects, even in strongly back lit settings. This viewfinder also comes in handy for low-angle shots because it can be tilted vertically from 0 to 90 degrees. And it displays the same information as your cam’s LCD, so you can monitor exposure and other camera settings without taking your eye off the scene before you.

And, of course, others are taking up the slack when it comes to other cameras. HoodMan and  look at these reviews.

And, of course, there is this little piece which includes this paragraph:

It’s a sunny day and you get out your digital camera to snap a shot.  The only trouble is you can barely see the screen because of the glare from the bright sun. Except that when you go to look through the view finder, you find that your hi-tech camera may not have a view finder.  So, you aim, you shoot, and you hope for the best.  It happens to many of us.   The Xtend-a-View Pro, by Photosolve, makes efforts to resolve this problem.

So, excuse me guys but I want an optical viewfinder back on my camera, and don’t give me that drivel about it not being as accurate as the LCD because when the sun is out, the LCD is useless and that isn’t accurate at all.

I want lots of pixels, lots of zoom and an optical viewfinder. Got it?

I have a regularly scheduled quarterly appointment in Fort Wayne at 1 pm today. It is a fifteen minute in and out doctor thing.  And it’s in the middle of the day. Why can’t this guy be in his office in the morning? Huh? Is he not aware that AmeliaJake has things to do on Summer days? It’s not like there is a Crate & Barrel in Fort Wayne – although there is a GoodWill right across the street from his office.

See, this is an example of my talent for complaining about anything; I actually staked claim to the 1 pm time slot because in the winter that middle of the day scheduling is helpful – if there has been snow, it has been scraped and if it is getting ugly, I can cancel. There’s plenty of time to get home before the five o’clock darkness comes.

BUT IT IS NOT WINTER RIGHT NOW. I don’t want to traipse down there all cleaned up and then come back to decide whether to preserve my cleanliness or go for the dirt of the attic and recently delivered dumpster. I guess I will just have to treat myself to something.

No, it was a sharp stick just below the tear duct corner of my eye. I was walking under the willow when whatever happened happened so fast that all I can remember is a stunning pain in the corner of my eye and my glasses no longer on my face. I suspect my glasses deflected what would have been a sharp willow branch into the eye; I owe them big time.

We probably are going to be walking around with goggles on our faces and pruning clippers in our hands very soon. A couple of big windstorms and some spurts of growth have left the Scott yard booby trapped. I also noticed some newly broken-off branches caught in higher branches of the trees.

It is a little-known fact that a high percentage of pioneer deaths were due to falling branches; I learned that from a little old lady in Mason, Ohio. Come to think of it, a couple of years ago I was standing where our driveway meets the sidewalk, looking south. I heard a whoosh, thump to the north and turned to see a branch had fallen down right beside me. Just the luck of the drop, I guess.

But back to the eye thing. I went inside afterward to comfort myself with an iced drink and started poking around some stuff in the original invalid-turned-sewing-turned office room. My dad taped up so many things. I think I have a complete pictorial Christmas card history of Robert Allen and Donna and their two boys. Then I spied a tiny clipping of newspaper – yellowed and firmed taped to the file cabinet. It was too small to read without putting my nose right up to it, so I patiently worked the tape lose. Turned out it was a list of Indiana Leaders in basketball – and there on that list was Scott Woodrow, my Aunt Mary’s grandson. I’d say it has been some time since he played ball. But there it was, probably stuck up when Aunt Mary first sent the clipping to my dad.

Pictures of Robert William and Quentin and one of Daddy and me when I was, oh, about 16.

You just don’t know what you are going to find . . . and I guess I’m lucky.

Let’s assume I am a blue furry creature named Grover. Well, right now, I would be saying, “I am soooo embarrassed,” just like he did when he came to the last page of The Monster at the End of This Book. I, the Psuedo-Grover, along with Summer (who does not have an alias to hide behind) have been investigating the state of healing going on in the vicinity of Sydney’s neutering surgery. We have looked at his scrotum, okay. There, I said it. Oh, I am sooooo embarrassed.

He is wearing his cone and trying to nip and lick the incision and so Summer and I got a wet towel to dampen the area and some generic antibiotic cream, but he is a little sensitive and actually what we saw isn’t what we expected to see. We looked it up on the internet and had to admit we didn’t have the pre-requisite education to truly understand what we were seeing, especially since our subject here was very much aware of our poking around. Oh, I think he was soooo embarrassed also.

We are going in a 5 pm to get him officially checked out and maybe an impromptu lesson in normal/ inflamed/ swollen/healing properly scrotums. The spell-checker red-lined the plural of scrotum, so I guess there must be some medical Latin involved. I’m not looking it up.

The regulars here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse are showing some interest in this recovery investigation and we think Shane is going to take his cone and go hide. I think he is going to demand a big party when this is over with lots of treats and maybe another wubba. At present, I am advising all the little cloth people to stay clear of the teeth; I think he’s in a bit of a bad mood and while we hope all rest is peaceful, we don’t want any cloth people to have a problem with RIP.

Shortly after I posted the pictures of Shane without his Elizabethan collar following his neutralization procedure, he started bothering his tiny incision. We had to put the cone on him. Shane does not take easily to the cone; in fact, he has trouble functioning. Last evening as I stood at the kitchen sink, I heard a thump and turned to see Shane walk into a cabinet; I sighed. A couple of minutes later, I turned around in time to see him give up and just slide to the floor, cone still against the cabinet door.

Backing up . . . this is rocket science?

I’m sorry, Shane, that was unkind. It just seems so unbelievable. You launch yourself in the air to catch a ball or your wubba and you have trouble  taking a couple of steps back? Where is your derring-do? Incapacitated by the cone of krptonite?

You slept in it last night, but you came before six and looked at me . . . and I took it off. I guess we both are in trouble now.